


Obscured

by ember_firedrake



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tactile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Hawkeye's injury, he has an unusual request.</p><p>(Episode tag for 5x03: "Out of Sight, Out of Mind")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obscured

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlacesBetween](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlacesBetween/gifts).



“You want to do what?” BJ asked, sure he must have misheard Hawkeye.

“Touch your face,” Hawkeye repeated. He’d heard correctly, after all. “Look, I know it sounds strange, but I’m trying to—what was it— _supplement_ my other senses.”

Hawkeye paused for a moment. The white gauze bandaged over his eyes made it difficult to know what he was thinking. BJ could only imagine how difficult this must be for him. His future was uncertain, and not even the prospect of an early trip home could fix that. Being a surgeon was Hawkeye’s life, his _purpose_ , and while he’d kept himself useful today in all the ways he was able, BJ could tell that Hawkeye’s composure was wearing thin. 

Hawkeye spoke again, his voice quieter in the stillness of their tent. “If this...whole thing doesn’t work out the way I want it to, I want to make sure I still remember the things that matter.” 

BJ could do nothing about the rapid beat of his pulse; he just hoped Hawkeye's other senses weren't attuned enough to detect it. He could refuse the request, part of him wondered if he _should_ , but he couldn't shake the vulnerability of Hawkeye’s admission. That he _mattered_ to Hawkeye. BJ almost nodded—habit—realizing the callousness of the gesture as he croaked out instead, "Yes, of course." 

Hawkeye reached out, tentative at first, his hands navigating the air as they sought out their mark. BJ helped, taking his wrists in a loose hold as he guided them closer. Was he imagining it, as his thumb brushed the inside of a pale wrist, or was Hawkeye's pulse quicker as well? He didn't have time to consider that—as Hawkeye touched his face all other thoughts fled. 

BJ was unable to prevent the small huff of breath escaping him. He didn't know what he was expecting, but the gentleness took him by surprise. Hawkeye's fingertips explored his face the way they might if he was looking for fractures or contusions beneath the skin. He wore no gloves, however, and BJ was not a patient, making the intimacy of their situation all the more real. 

BJ distracted himself by staring at Hawkeye in turn, memorizing his features by sight if not touch. The gauze kept part of him shrouded, hidden, but BJ could see the way Hawkeye's brows were furrowed beneath the bandage. What he sought with this experiment, BJ couldn't tell. Hawkeye's mouth was parted slightly, tongue pressing against his teeth in a thoughtful expression. 

“You forgot to shave today,” Hawkeye remarked, his fingertips catching on BJ’s stubble. 

“I had other things on my mind,” BJ said. Like being woken by Hawk shouting in pain and then staying with him until the ophthalmologist arrived.

“Don’t let yourself go on my account,” Hawkeye said. There was a teasing lilt to his tone, an attempt to lighten the mood, but BJ could tell it belied the undercurrent of anxiety he really felt. 

Hawkeye traced his cheekbone, fingers moving up a moment later to map his forehead, stroking gently at his hairline. BJ's eyes fell shut. He _wanted_. That _want_ was trouble enough by itself (and something he would eventually need to cope with or address, but not before first talking to Peg) but the timing...True, he'd been coping with this attraction for some time now, but the overwhelming urge to close the distance and kiss Hawkeye's parted lips could not have come at a worse time. He didn't want Hawkeye to think it was pity that made him act. It was respect and regard ( _love_ ) and yes, maybe concern for Hawkeye's current situation, but never pity. There would be other opportunities to tell Hawkeye of his feelings, though BJ's resolve was sorely tempted as Hawkeye's thumb swept under the curve of his lower lip. 

"Hawk," BJ breathed out. He was surprised by the raggedness of his own voice. 

"Yeah, Beej?" 

BJ couldn't be certain, but he thought he detected something more in Hawkeye's inquiring tone. As though there was another question he was trying to ask, one BJ need only answer by closing that remaining distance between them, crossing that final line...but he couldn't. Not like this. 

BJ reached up, taking Hawkeye's hands in his own and drawing them away from his face. 

"You should sleep. You've been on your feet all day."

Hawkeye swallowed, the corners of his mouth going tight. "Can't," he murmured. 

"We could get you something to help you sleep, if that's the problem."

Hawkeye shook his head. His brows were drawn together under the bandage, and there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before. "It's not that. I'm afraid...what if my dreams are as dark as when I'm awake?"

BJ frowned, unable to find an easy answer for that. There was a palpable ache in his chest, the need to offer his friend some sort of comfort overwhelming. Since realizing his feelings for Hawkeye, BJ had been careful to keep himself guarded, never revealing too much. Hawkeye, though—as if to make up for what the bandages kept hidden, he’d been _more_ open, disclosing fears, insights and vulnerabilities. BJ felt he should offer something in return. Hawkeye's hands were still clasped in his own, and BJ leaned down, brushing his lips briefly across the knuckles. Hawkeye's indrawn breath was soft, almost inaudible. 

"I can't promise you won't have nightmares," BJ said, "but your body needs time to rest and recuperate. I could...read to you until you fall asleep. If you want."

The adam's apple in Hawkeye's throat shifted as he swallowed. "Yeah," he said, "I'd appreciate that, Beej."

BJ helped Hawkeye lean back on his cot. As BJ was about to draw back again, Hawkeye’s “wait” stopped him. Hawkeye reached up, his palm settling over BJ’s heartbeat. BJ went still, the warmth of Hawkeye’s hand seeping through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. BJ could hear his pulse in his ears, knew Hawkeye would be able to feel it as well. He feared (hoped?) Hawkeye would know what he wasn’t saying.

“Huh,” Hawkeye murmured. “It’s the same as mine.”

Hawkeye’s free hand took one of BJ’s, guiding it up to his own chest, until BJ’s palm pressed against the bare skin in the opening of Hawkeye’s robe. BJ closed his eyes, his position mirroring Hawkeye’s, as the rhythm of that heartbeat beneath the palm of his hand seemed to spread and fill his entire awareness.


End file.
